By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey When waiting gets tireless your feet get numb and stiff the patches of dark clouds hover over your head and all roads get blocked you will always see me around to make you feel, relieved, to…
By: Joel Schueler When will you climb The Mountains of time? Instead you seldom see The pallid fathomed glee. Shape me in your greed Wise words you say I’ll heed And carefully pluck away Any formed debris. I bent my love…
By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick She doesn’t like me How do I know? The look in her eye The heard but unanswered words Unkind actions calling out my pain She doesn’t like me I’m just a few minutes of her twelve…
By: John Grey The town overlooked the natural harbor from a half-circle of land. It rose in tiers like the seats of a theater. Transients, tourists, occupied the motels and shabby rental homes along the beachfront. Spread out behind was a…
By: John Grey He plays a musical saw because it’s the easiest instrument to learn and he can sit it on his lap, rub a bow across the blade and, before you know it, out comes a plaintive ballad that, despite…
By: John Grey She raises her eyebrows at my entrance but doesn’t take her thumb out of her mouth. She’s adorned in a yellowed crumbling wedding dress. There’s something moving in her ratty gray hair. The air inside her house is…
By: Keith Welch bullets don’t change their minds know straight lines one-way trip no do-overs all. sales. final. point and shoot fixed focus everyone equal guilty or innocent? no judgements copper-clad security blanket night-light clip safety guaranteed all-in-one little lead…
By: Keith Welch I’m sure you were a lovely child apple of your mother’s eye a little boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly Where did this odd idea come from to dress your fellow man in flame? Did you sit in…
By: Rajat Mitra I believe that despite irreconcilable differences between the ideology of Islam and Hinduism, there is a truth that lurks and surfaces when these differences threaten us. As a psychologist who has worked with radicalized youth and perpetrators…
By: Linda M Crate dark and silent as night i remember the anxiety drawing between my legs & i i remember praying that you didn’t exist simply so i could breathe then there was all that blood wasn’t period blood…